


homesick wonders

by Antarktica



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Friendship, Longing, Mentions of Daisy, coulson + mack - the pop culture nerd duo, mack is absolutely done with coulson's BS, set in between Season 3 and Season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 12:04:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18498601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antarktica/pseuds/Antarktica
Summary: Coulson misses May. He just hasn't reached that conclusion yet. Set between season 3 and season 4.





	homesick wonders

**Author's Note:**

> I was just really piqued by Mack and Coulson's trade in 4x01 where Mack says it'll be good to see FitzSimmons and Coulson adds May but then Mack goes, "I think you're the only one looking forward to that" or something along those lines. And imagined how annoying it must have been for Mack to hear Coulson breathe even as so much of things that reminded him of May and never noticing that it's because he misses her. 
> 
> So here you have it.

 

i.

“Hey, Mack. Do we still have green tea?” He’s puttering around the kitchen in Zephyr One. Not as homey as the one on their Bus ( _their—_ his and May’s—bus), but it’s useful nonetheless. He’s been craving green tea for reasons he couldn’t explain for the past two weeks they’ve been off-base.

Green tea also made him feel less anxious.

(Made him feel less— _alone.)_

He supposes chamomile does that too but, _green tea_.

“Check the upper cupboard, sir.” Coulson stops himself from turning around to chide Mack for the honorary term. He was not Director anymore, hence, no need for the sir. But he’s been saying it over and over again for the previous days and he was sure Mack would have his head already. So, he neglects the chiding look and nods, says his thanks and points his attention towards the cupboard.

He nearly jumps in excitement when he sees that they _do_ still _have_ green tea. Of course, it came out in a strained yet happy tone, muttering ‘ _yes_ ’ to himself before his bionic arm picks it out of the cupboard. Mack is lounging, living on coffee, he was on his third cup, Coulson thinks, it’s a diet May would kill him for.

( _Eat properly on Z-one_ , _Phil._ He could still hear her voice. If he was being honest, she was _the_ voice inside his head, keeping him grounded. The feeling lingers, and he knows he can’t go there. This was enough. He had to settle, not with everything that happened. He can’t let himself feel this now.)

As he’s preparing his tea, attempting to be elegant and graceful about his movements, he sees Mack looking at his general direction, shaking his head.

“What?” Coulson asks, he truly didn’t know why Mack had that incredulous expression written all over his place. He was only making himself _tea._ Was it because he wasn’t drinking coffee, for the first time in ages?

(May loathed coffee.)

“You’re drinking _tea_ , Coulson. We’ve only been out for _two weeks_.”

He cocks his head to the side, what was Mack getting on? “The point is?” There’s an expert grace when he pours the scalding water to his mug, the waft of green tea filling the room. It smelled like _home._

Mack chuckles. “Please, Coulson, _you know what I’m talking about._ ” He notes in his version of conspiracy tone. Sometimes, he didn’t miss Daisy at all (but he does, he does miss Daisy a lot. And he’ll get her back. _They’ll get her back.)_ because of Mack’s tendency to be a running mill of crazy theories too.

“No, I do not.” Coulson takes the seat across from Mack, mug in hand, unknowing of where the conversation is heading.

“You really want me to say it?”

Coulson sips on his tea. “Yes, I really have _no clue_ what you’re talking about.”

Mack stares at him intently for what seemed like the longest of times. Coulson kept his furrowed eyebrows still, almost adjoining in his forehead.

Suddenly, he asks. “Sir, who likes drinking green tea in the old band?”

“May.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Green tea.”

Mack waits for the penny to drop. He waits for five, ten seconds, thirty even until it doesn’t and all he gets his Coulson throwing his hands to the side as if asking what was the problem with it. He shakes his head once again, puts his mug in the sink and takes one look at Coulson again. And he leaves.

“Odd.” Is all Coulson notes from the whole exchange. Maybe he should read the Captain America comics that _May_ stuffed in his bag when he had to leave all of a sudden. He gets up promptly and opens his bag. He smiles. It was his favorite issue too.

 

 

ii.

They touchdown base. This was a short stop. Z-One needed a refill. Still, it doesn’t stop Mack from seeing Coulson zoom past him as soon as the cargo bay opens. His gaze follows Coulson, currently unaware of everybody’s gaze as he runs towards the strike team commander.

_May._

They’re talking about something. They always were, Mack notes in his head. And then Coulson’s hand lands on May’s shoulder, a friendly pat. No…wait, friendly pats don’t linger that way. If someone were to ask Mack about Coulson and May, frankly, he’d tell them to bite their tongue. He has no answer for them. And even now, as he was watching this display in clear sight, not only does he have an answer, he’s even more confused.

He sees Coulson beckoning for him and May nodding her head once at his general direction. Mack gets up, now he has to go to their bubble where you could physically cut the tension in the air.

“Hey, May. Looking good.” May scoffs at him, a kind one. They all know each other better now.

“Not so good. If I hadn’t noticed, she would still be throwing down rookies with _a bruised rib_.” Coulson chides May in a way that surprises Mack. He sounded… _mad._

“I’ve had worse and you _know it_ , Coulson.”

And Coulson was apparently _Coulson_ to May today. Mack almost smirks to himself, this should be interesting.

“I’m sure May can take care of herself, Coulson.” He takes May’s side. Her good side. In such a kissing ass manner that May might kick him for it. He wouldn’t mind really, just to see the look on Coulson’s face. If curiosity killed the cat, then curiosity is May.

May looks a bit impressed when he takes her side. Gloating, even, at Coulson. She doesn’t chide Mack for taking her side but instead revels on it.

“Mack knows what he’s talking about.”

“Did you even put warm pressure on it yet?” Coulson seems to disregard the whole conversation happening and the odds not being in his favor. His hand hover over May’s arm gently, and Mack’s certainly not oblivious enough to not miss the look May gives Coulson when he steps into her personal bubble.

Who was Mack kidding though, even May’s personal bubble was something she shared with _Coulson._

“Well, I’ll leave you two here, I’ll go over inventory again.” Mack’s not even certain they heard him bid his farewells. The last thing he sees is Coulson and May walking inside the base, probably on the way to medical with the way Coulson has one hand hovering over May’s back. Probably to apply that _warm pressure_ for the bruise.

A load of confusing bullshit it was, at least, that’s Mack’s opinion. First thing Coulson does when they land: check on May.

 

 

iii.

“Phil. You’re being stupid again.”

Mack overhears from the cargo bay. May’s voice. It could only be Coulson calling her.

“But, May, it’s the only way and you know it—”

“I am not hearing the end of this, Phil. You know, you can’t, we can’t—”

Mack’s eyebrows furrow at that, his attention currently shifted to the conversation. He _really_ shouldn’t eavesdrop.

“But we have to get her back, Melinda.” The name sounded so soft whenever Coulson said it. Such a light tone to fall off one’s lips for such a lethal force of a woman. There’s silence and it somehow lulls Mack back into doing his work, his tinkering, honestly.

“…I know. But we also need _patience_ …you know how it goes….”

Mack pretends he doesn’t get that part. And if he was being honest, he really didn’t—he only knows what he read, and what he read sometimes cannot be trusted but he knows it cost May greatly—of her humanity and of her conscience.

“…I do.” He hears Coulson note weakly, his voice suddenly tired and hopeless.

“I trust that you’ll get _our_ Daisy back, you know that, right?”

 _Our_ Daisy. _Their_ Daisy. It wasn’t far-off, to the civilian eyes they’d passed off as family. Mack even made a mistake of thinking it his first time around.

“I do.”

“Get some rest, Coulson. Go drink the chamomile I stuffed in your bag.”

“ _You’re amazing_.” If this was heard by anyone else, some rookie agent would’ve been fooled into thinking these two were in a relationship. Married isn’t such a farfetched notion too. Mack chuckles to himself, knowing if he was in the cargo bay, Coulson would have that helpless puppy eyes at the tablet screen.

“Get out of my screen, _nerd_.” And he doesn’t know May as much as Coulson does, but Mack knows well enough she’d be waving him off with a scoff, the scoff reserved for Phil Coulson, though. He’d classified that in his head, caught it a couple moments.

Honestly, he’s a well of speculations about these two. Maybe Elena would care to share hers and then they could both have May haunt them and kill them in their dreams.

 

 

iv.

It had been 4 months and 7 days that Daisy had been gone. He was counting. All the members of the old band were. Mack had missed the kid and her bubbly personality. The space felt empty. Utterly empty. He’d only seen glances of her, in the tv, and in the field, in their pursue _of_ her.

None of them would say the obvious words. _They missed Daisy_.

This mission, this encounter they were so close. So damn _close_. But Daisy had to be smart, had powers, had options to get herself out even when they were close. She didn’t even give them a second glance. She _ran_.

It was also the first time he’d heard Coulson curse so hardly under his breath.

They needed to debrief, so they go home. Their base, infiltrated by strangers legally kept by the government to govern over their asses. He should call Elena as soon as he touches down, after debriefing.

He stands in the same line as Coulson, making the most neutral expression as Mace runs his mouth again and again about another one of their failed attempts to capture Quake—Mack grits his teeth at that—the title is dehumanizing the most human person he’d ever met. Coulson seemed cool in the exterior but that many missions with him, Mack could tell his tic. Clenched jaw and clenched fists. Sometimes, he noticed his bionic hand with streaks of light when clenched tightly.

They part after debrief. At least that was the intention, they both end up going in the same direction. Same direction where May was and it only took her one look on Coulson’s face to go heading down the corridor. Mack’s room had been there too—so if anyone were to blame him on his sudden stop on one of the rooms that had the door opened slightly—well not a soul ever occupied the room, as much as to his knowledge.

He’ll speak to no one about how Coulson had just crumbled into May’s arms. He’ll speak none of the way May had just let Coulson found security in her comfort. He didn’t look for much longer than ten seconds before it felt like he was invading their privacy—Mack understood the feeling.

So, he went, retreating to his quarters, seeking Elena’s voice and comfort.

 

 

v.

This is his fifth voicemail. Well, it was a tradition. A tradition well-kept in the depths of his mind and something he made sure to make time for, lest an already worried soul would eventually be exhaust from worry. It was one of the days his worries about Daisy fleets and gives him peace, so he’s in a much lighter mood, feeling less of the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Before he even gets to start on his rambling, his phone rang and flashed the user ID of the person he didn’t mind calling the most.

“Sorry, I just saw like your fourth voicemail after training.” He missed this voice, post-training which was code for post kicking all the rookie asses and her not sweating a tiny bit.

“It’s fine, May. How’s it going down there?”

“There is _nothing_ going on here and it is killing me.” He doesn’t miss the grumble that escapes Melinda, and he laughs. He laughs not at her frustration but at the undertone of impatience under her voice.

“I hope you didn’t break anyone’s bone today?”

“Hey, that was _one time_.”

“Only because the cadets wear twice as strong armor when they train with you now.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Coulson.”

Coulson chuckles, that was a long time coming.

“Anyway, did you even notice the bag I threw in the plane?”

“Yeah—you put my favorite Captain America issue when I thought I forgot it and I think I just ran out of chamomile, thank you, I get very anxious when you’re not the one flying the plane I’m on.” He hears her chuckle. “Apparently, Mack finds my _pacing_ annoying. Who would ever say that?”

“I would, because it _is_ annoying.” Coulson could see her rolling her eyes at him right now. “—you owe me a _lot_ , nerd.”

“I fear for the day you come collect.” He says melodramatically into the call, earnest in hearing May laugh again. And she did. And maybe that’s enough for him. Enough to not miss _home_ that much.

“You better.” There’s a pause and then he hears shuffling. “ _Shit_ , where are you about to land?”

“Uhm…Beijing?”

“ _Perfect_. I need tea.”

He could never refuse her. And even if his Mandarin was shit, somehow, he’d get it. He was _persuasive_ after all.

“Phil?”

“Y-Yeah, sorry, I was just thinking.”

“One could _wonder_.” He rolls his eyes at that. She never let _that_ go. “Come back, okay? I need my tea.”

It was May speak for, _I miss you but I’d miss my tea more, Phil._ And it’s enough for him.

“Yeah, I know.”

 _I miss you too._ But he’s certain she doesn’t hear it.

 

 

vi.

Coulson doesn’t chide himself when every time they land, he finds his eyes searching for a tiny Asian woman in the crowd. Then again, there was no one else whom his eyes would rather see. It was the worst kept secret in S.H.I.E.L.D., he remembers Maria saying to him. He waves her and the whole notion of it off.

Every day makes it feel a little bit more real.

Especially when he barely has to make any effort to find her because she _always finds_ him.

Maybe he forgets the rest of the world then, forgets the grief they share at the moment, the loss—because this is what his _second chance_ was. Coming back _home_. Something he was not able to do then. He thinks she sees it too, know the whole worth of it, because she doesn’t shy away from him anymore. Doesn’t shy away from _them_ anymore.

He _smiles_. A syrupy smile one, he remembers her saying at one point, and she doesn’t brush it off and instead returns her own version of it. Training would always be taken over by Piper whenever he arrives, that was kind of the routine they found. And then sneaking into one of the empty unused secret rooms in the base. It sounds juvenile. But it had been _their space_ , before all this legalizing and Sokovia Accords had forced them to shed their skin into the light.

No one had said a word about it. Honestly, they don’t even think _anybody knows._

Melinda had already opened a bottle of scotch for the two of them. She always knew. She takes the seat beside him, two glasses of scotch in hand. On the rocks too. He lets her invade his space, one arm spread on the back of the couch as he turns the television on, absentmindedly.

They had days, nights like these in the academy. Though, they were much more naïve then, unknowing of the horrors the life they’d chosen had put them through. Cold, unkempt safe houses with nothing but macaroni and a broken heater. Some days were lucky. Most days were otherwise.

Today was lucky. And if Melinda invades his space just a little bit more, he lets her. He lets her know he’s still alive. He lets her know he came back and that he’s with her. He holds onto those thoughts for a little bit longer before he finishes his scotch, pulling her closer to him and burying his nose in her hair as they sit side by side.

She’s trailing her fingertips at his hand rested on her knee. They were _incomplete_. A broken band. He plants a kiss on her forehead, a reminder and a promise. This intimacy isn’t far fetched from both of them, it only ever wandered in their own safe space they built and burnt and put back together again throughout the years. They shared beds, all-nighters—they’ve been through so much and frankly, _enough._

The moment he breathes in her scent, he stops missing her.

He was _home._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> "green tea = melinda may = home", thats how it works in coulson's dumbass brain. hope yall liked it! also if you have prompts send it my way on tumblr, captainqiaolian, it's my writing blog.


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